Timelock

by R. G. Knighton

  Joseph thanked Icarus for the report then turned to Balthazar and spoke softly so as nobody else could hear.

  “How long will the food supply last?”

  Balthazar thought for a moment while he poked his fingers under the bandage around his head covering the gash that had already begun to itch.

  “If we are careful, the supplies should last a week but not much longer. Let’s hope that Icarus’ calculation is correct.”

  Balthazar roused the dazed crew into life and gave orders to set the sails to make the quickest time possible for land.

  For the rest of the day, all the crew, including Yeshua kept busy repairing the damage, scrubbing the decks and checking the condition of the cargo for storm damage. For the passengers, everything returned to normal and they resumed their daily routine. By nightfall, all possible repairs were complete and the weary crew sat down to their evening meal with a gift of thanks from Joseph in the form of three amphorae of wine released from the galley stores.

  “Here’s to Joseph!”

  One of the crewmen shouted above the melee that ensued as everyone fought for their share.

  “To Joseph!”

  Came the unanimous reply as they all sat back and raised their mugs. In a very short space of time with all the food eaten and amphorae drained, a dozen men sat together singing sea shanties that became cruder with every verse.

  As the evening passed on into the early hours of the morning, some of the crew found their drunken way onto the deck to continue with the party. Dares and gambling prevailed and some of them danced when Icarus could be persuaded to sing. Two of the crew, Boldern and Timut sat facing each other arm wrestling across the top of a water barrel amid the sound of wagers being thrown down by the rest of the men on the possible outcome. Boosted by the effects of the drug and alcohol, Timut truly believed that he could beat Boldern who second to Balthazar was the strongest man aboard. Amid back slapping and cries of support, both men stared each other down trying to gain a psychological edge while they gritted their teeth and strained every sinew in an effort for victory. Boldern in spite of his great strength, for some unknown reason could feel himself weaken rapidly and looked to lose the contest. He could feel himself entering a dreamlike state as the cheering from his crewmates faded and he began to hear a strange hissing noise. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision Boldern looked down to see not Timut’s hand he was gripping but the neck of a hooded cobra whose head twisted and hissed as it tried to strike his face. In a fit of panic, Boldern screamed and grabbed hold of a nearby cargo hook with his free hand. Standing up, he used his weight to pin his crewmate’s hand to the top of the barrel and plunged the spike into Timut’s forearm. With the strength of Boldern’s fear, the spike managed to pass cleanly through the skin and muscle, graze the bone and embed the sharp point into the barrel top where his arm lay. Everyone stopped, watching in shocked silence as Timut began to scream and tried with little success, to free his arm from the hook as blood bubbled and poured out from the puncture, collecting in a neat deep red pool inside the barrel’s rim. Boldern stepped carefully backwards, guardedly watching the snake arm writhing and spitting as it tried to liberate its self from the hook and attack him once more. Free from the initial shock, Icarus ran to Timut’s aid trying unsuccessfully to prise the hook from the barrel, as the metal shaft was far too embedded into the wood, and slick with blood to maintain a decent grip. Boldern watched in horror, finding it inconceivable that Icarus would want to release the serpent.

  “Stop it, can’t you see what it is, it’ll bite you.”

  He yelled as he pushed Icarus away who fell over Timut’s outstretched leg, adding more agony as his arm twisted on the spike, opening up the wound even more.

  “It’s a cobra, can’t you all see it?”

  Boldern cried as he looked around for a blade to chop off the snake’s head. The drug began to take effect with the power of suggestion affecting more members of the crew. Some of them believed the statement and visualised their own version of a serpent attached to the end of Timut’s arm. Timut could only watch in horror as someone shouted,

  “Find an axe; we must kill the snake.”

  Timut screamed in fear as several members of the crew began to wander the deck dreamily, searching for an implement suitable to sever the snake’s head. The less affected, including Icarus could only stand and defend Timut as he was attacked time after time by the drugged sailors.

  Near the bow and out of sight, a delighted Toomak stood with Feriluc, watching the mayhem unfold and relishing the pain and bloodshed. Boldern lurched nearby looking for a blade when Toomak stepped out and handed him a serrated edged knife from her own private collection. Wide-eyed with excitement, the sailor grabbed it in his blood stained fingers and loped drunkenly back to remove the snake's head. Icarus tried in vain to stop the attack but was not quick enough to react when he saw a flash of moonlight glinting from the blades’ shiny surface as it flashed through the air and embedded the jagged edge deep into Timut’s wrist. Timut screamed again, thrashing about trying to stop Boldern sawing the blade back and forth across his arm but Boldern was too strong, easily holding the poor man at bay and anyone else who tried to stop him. The serrated edge sliced quickly through the outer dermis layer of skin, then rasped loudly from the sawing motion chipping at the radius bone before sliding off the rounded end finding the joint. Sinew held no match for the razor sharp edge and Timut’s fingers danced as each tendon plucked and snapped in time to the motion of the blade. Reeling from the macabre scene, Icarus tried once again to intervene only to be hit in the face by a jet of hot blood that spewed out several feet when the blade sliced clean through the ulnar artery on its way through the wrist. One last thrust sliced away the final flap of skin and the severed hand splashed into the puddle of blood collecting around Boldern’s feet and slowly oozing across the deck.

  “I’ve killed the snake!”

  He cried after stooping to pick up the severed and bloodied limb before raising it over his head and waving it around like a hunting trophy. Several sailors cheered at the gruesome sight and hoisting him upon their shoulders, they marched away to celebrate the victory.

  The commotion brought Balthazar and Joseph up on deck and they stopped in their tracks as they tried to comprehend the sight of Timut pinned to the top of a barrel, minus his hand and passed out in a pool of his own blood as a group of sailors tossed about the severed manus in a macabre game of catch. Balthazar unfazed by the sight of so much blood reacted first and stepped gingerly into the fast drying sticky gloop to rescue Timut. Joseph wretched at the sight but manfully swallowed it down as he stepped forwards to catch Timut as he slumped towards the floor when Balthazar easily prised the blooded hook from the barrel. Holding the unconscious man, Joseph watched as Balthazar tore off the bandage from his own head and bound a tourniquet to the blood spewing arm, tight enough to stem the flow. Balthazar knew from his gladiatorial days that the volume of congealing life giving fluid spattered across the deck made it unlikely that Timut would survive the night.

  “Get the end sealed as quickly as possible.”

  He ordered Icarus, who along with a few of the men who appeared to be unaffected. With the aid of two other crewmates they carried Timut below decks to prepare for surgery. Free of the task of caring for the injured crewman, Balthazar took hold of the cargo hook that only moments before impaled the sailors arm, and drawing himself up to his full height stormed angrily towards the group who still played with the severed hand.

  “Who is responsible for this atrocity?”

  Balthazar bellowed at the top of his voice, which brought a semblance of order to the rabble and someone dropped the hand, which fell to the deck at Balthazar’s feet. The influence of the drug made the recipients susceptible to suggestion so Balthazar’s presence commanded their complete attention. He stooped to pick up the severed hand and held it aloft as he repeated his question.

  “Who is responsible for this?”

&nb
sp; He asked as he worked his way through the group, shoving the hand into their shocked faces, trying to glean a reaction.

  “I think it must be me.”

  Came a voice from the back of the group and a sailor came forwards, drenched all down the front of his tunic with Timut’s blood.

  “I have no idea what came over me only that I was sure I was killing a snake and until you shouted, the hand you are holding was the snake's head.”

  Murmurs of agreement passed through the group and as the drug wore off and realisation kicked in with shock and horror registering on the men’s faces.

  Toomak watched avidly from her hiding place as she removed another black stone from her pouch, whispered a few words, and then tossed the pebble into the sea. Once again, the water bubbled and fizzed as a claw like skeletal hand rose from the depths with the stone in its grasp, then descended back into the now calm water, disappearing from view. Feriluc nodded, encouraging his protégé as she held her amulet in both hands, pointing it at the guilty sailor and chanting under her breath, projecting her control. The poor unfortunate soul, unable to resist, suddenly lunged at Balthazar and tried to strangle him. The attack proved one sided and useless as Balthazar blocked the lunge, punched the sailor in the stomach and as he doubled over, swatted the man to the floor with a blow to the back of the neck. Toomak continued to chant and the sailor surprised Balthazar by jumping to his feet, grabbing the severed hand and before anyone could stop him turned and ran. In one leap he jumped the deck rail and plunged the thirty feet into the inky sea.

  “Man overboard, heave to, hard over!”

  Cried Balthazar and the men operating the tillers pushed their own clavus handle hard to port, turning the ship into the wind trying to stall this leviathan of a craft. Coming back to their senses the remaining group ran to the rail to spot the sailor so a rope could be thrown to the stranded man. Luckily, a strong head wind easily stalled the ship's velocity, throwing some of the landlubbers below deck off balance while the crew shouted encouragement for Boldern to swim to safety. Elongated shadows cast by the ship, shimmied onto the water’s surface as the early morning sun broke through the misty horizon giving improved visibility to the men, keen to keep their crewmate in sight as he doggedly swam for the rope. Unfortunately, far into the distance, a creature that can smell a drop of blood from over a mile away, changed its course and headed straight for the stricken man. Aided by sensors running down its flanks picking up the slightest unusual vibration, this hunter is guided directly to its prey. In the half light the group could not yet see the dorsal fin of the twelve foot long white tipped shark ploughing through the surf before it disappeared silently under the water, closing in for the kill. The cold seawater brought Boldern quickly to his senses and he swam eagerly for the ship in hope of rescue. Encouraged by the cheers from the rest of the crew and some of the passengers that had warily come up on deck to witness the commotion, he reached the end of a mooring rope dragging through the water and fed the looped end over his body and under his arms, allowing the crew to haul him in.

  Yeshua, awakened from his slumbers by the commotion, got out of bed, climbed up on deck, and joined the crowd at the rail, watching the rescue. Two sailors pulled steadily; hand over hand on the mooring rope, drawing the stricken sailor ever closer to the hull of the ship. All went well until everyone froze in fear as Boldern screamed and suddenly shot forwards on the rope with his shoulders lifted clear of the water. Leaving a wake behind him and almost overtaking the ship as the shark hit him hard below the waterline. His next scream ceased abruptly as the massive jaws clamped harder, compressing his abdomen, and tearing into the soft belly flesh, ripping a massive hole as it crushed his spine. The pressure from the shark’s bite ruptured Boldern’s stomach and a fountain of blood spewed violently from the sailor’s open mouth, leaving a ruby trail in the water. The anxious crew quickly took up the slack and continued to pull on the rope in hope of rescue but as soon as the rope drew taught, the shark thrashed about like a salmon on a line fighting for its meal. Yeshua clamped his hands to his own mouth, shaking in horror as the sailor flailed desperately in the water punching and kicking for his life but the shark relentlessly held on with its three rows of razor sharp teeth ripping tissue shreds from the tender belly flesh. Pieces of skin and torn clothing bobbed about on the water’s surface as the shark in frustration at the difficulty of his kill, thrashed its body clean out of the water complete with the Boldern clamped in its jaws then flopped back down creating a huge splash as it disappeared under bloody surf almost pulling two of his crewmates into the sea with him as they desperately held onto the mooring rope. Suddenly the leash went slack and in hope the shark had let go, the crew eagerly pulled up their crewmate. Blood clouded and stained the surface of the water and Yeshua screamed when only the top half of Boldern’s body lifted clear of the waves, thumping into the ship’s hull and slapping the planking with yards of ragged entrails hanging from the open chest cavity as watery blood poured back into the sea. Yeshua screamed again as this brutally halved man suddenly raised his head and looked pleadingly at Yeshua while still trying to talk. The cold black eyed beast, honed through thousands of years of evolution into the perfect killing machine was not prepared for half a meal and spiralled down into the depths before turning around and torpedoed vertically to the surface and leaping high out of the water. Even in his terrible state, Boldern still managed to look surprised just before the shark clamped its jaws around his head, tipping the remaining body out of the loop. Blood spattered into Yeshua’s face as Boldern’s intestines whiplashed through the loop of rope, as the stricken sailor splashed deep under the waves for the last time in a froth of guts and blood.

  The horrified group stood silent and motionless staring at the surface of the water, watching the deep red stain rise up and spread across the surface until it quickly diluted until there was not a single trace that anything had ever happened. Balthazar broke the trance as he pushed two of the crew aside and hauled in the bloodied mooring rope, storing it away from view.

  “Resume previous heading.”

  Balthazar shouted to the helmsmen who started from their stupor and under the direction of Icarus, adjusted the tiller, swinging the ship around to fill out the sails and head towards land. Balthazar ordered a cleanup duty then headed below deck to check on Timut.

  Within the hour Joseph assembled all the passengers and crew on deck then stood three steps up to the quarterdeck to give a brief report.

  “As you are all aware a valuable member of my crew was lost today due to a bizarre set of circumstances. I do not yet know the cause of the mania that apparently affected some of the crew but I pray that it was an isolated incident and we can continue unaffected and will soon return to land for fresh supplies and then continue on our way. Later on today I will be holding a service for the lost crewman, If anyone has any further questions I will available in my ready room, Thank you.”

  Joseph indicated to Balthazar to follow him to his quarters and when they were safely inside, he began.

  “Do you have any idea what is happening? We have the best quality supplies and the wine is from a personal friend of mine.”

  Balthazar sat down and scratched the back of his head, unable to muster a single logical answer when there was a loud banging on the door. Joseph opened it to see a very irate Psyom who barged straight in without being asked. Balthazar groaned and tried to leave only to be blocked in the doorway by Psyom’s husband Hajer who had been reluctantly forced into seeing Joseph to register their complaint.

  “I demand to know what you are doing to ensure the safety of myself and my family. This is the most slapdash operation I have ever had the misfortune to witness. I can only guess at how you were recommended to me.”

  Joseph took a step back in surprise and looked over Psyom’s shoulder at Hajer cringing with embarrassment as he stood in the doorway. Balthazar remained silent leaving all the explanation to Joseph knowing that anything he said would be ignored
or derided by this woman he deemed to be insane.

  “Madam Psyom, this is an isolated incident, probably brought on by an ague contracted by the unfortunate crewman the last time we docked the ship. I assure you that your family and entourage are completely safe and we will find land very soon.”

  Hajer grabbed Psyom’s hand and pulled her away into the corridor, mumbling his thanks for Joseph’s time before she could continue her rant any further; Balthazar gratefully closed the door and feeling exhausted sat down in the nearest chair.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  In a small airless room below decks lay Timut, bathed in sweat and moaning in a delirium fever as his body contended with the loss of his hand. At the side of his cot sat a small wooden bucket, half filled with fresh vomit, the stench of which hung in the air, cloying at the back of the throat. His blood loss although extensive was not yet fatal, thanks to Balthazar’s quick thinking in applying the tourniquet that had saved Timut’s life. One of the three sailors now looking after Timut was Ransun, the oldest member of the crew and the most experienced in dealing with trauma. During his younger days as a Roman soldier Ransun assisted surgeons on the battlefield and had borne witness to hundreds of horrific injuries including many amputations like the one facing him today. Firstly, Ransun cradled Timut’s head, parted his lips, and with the use of a pouring jug administered a large dose of liquid opium to dull the pain and sedate him for his fate. Timut choked and frothed at the mouth but Ransun held firm, clamping his jaw shut until his patient swallowed it down, only losing a small white dribble that dried quickly as it ran across Timut’s cheek. Only when he believed his crewmate to be suitably tranquilised, Ransun would begin. The sole source of available light came from a solitary oil lamp hanging from a hook in the ceiling. This swayed to the swell of the ocean casting shadows back and forth making work impossible so Ransun ordered it to be removed and placed beside him on the floor to improve his vision. Satisfied with the result, the operation began. First he cleaned the arm with vinegar, making sure that the acidic liquid soaked right through the hole in the arm before stitching up the entry and exit wound caused by the cargo hook. When he removed the bandage from the main injury, he washed it again in more vinegar to clean the area. Timut winced from the burning acid, but bravely held still. Initial examination showed the wound still looking fresh, angry, and ragged, with bits of skin and sinew hanging from the end of the bone. Closer inspection revealed blood stained plasma seeping out and dripping slowly onto the floor. Next, Ransun closely sniffed the damaged area and not detecting the sweet smell of gangrene, took this as a good sign that rot had yet to set in. He nodded to the four sailors holding Timut down as he released the pressure on the tourniquet to allow fresh blood to force out any debris that may have found its way into the severed limb. Timut suddenly opened his eyes wide, raised his head, moaning lowly as he watched his arm squirt jets of sticky red liquid across the floor and splash up the wall from the pressure release. Satisfied with the result, Ransun retightened the bandage stopping the blood flow once more as Timut fainted back into his pillow. The door creaked open and the cook brought in a small tub of stinking boiling black tar, adding to the stench filling the room. The liquid pitch is usually used to waterproof the ship, but its use today was medicinal. The cook also carried a wooden handled flat iron that he had heated on the stove in the galley until its base glowed to a fiery orange. Grimacing at the sight and smell, the cook turned his back and left without another word.